Embrace Destiny and Defy It
by FallingFromBrokenWings
Summary: Some embrace destiny, others are the unwilling pawns of it. Miss Marian Hawke lives it. But throughout it all, one can find and make their own, but only and only if one has the will to do so. But when asked 'What is it that you desire' what does one say?
1. Defying Fate

"The life of an apostate is never easy. In constant danger from not only demons, but from their fellow man as well. They can never truly live in freedom, never live life the way it was meant to be. But one mage, one apostate managed to change that forever. My… friend, the famed Champion of Kirkwall. This is her story. It has been told, time and time again, but each time is farther from the truth. And this is what I speak, the truth. So gather around all of those who would listen, for this is a tale you are all familiar with. Told like you have never heard before…

* * *

><p>It was amazing, how the sun shone in the morning. Sunlight danced across the water of the river next to their homestead. A simple sigh, so full of content and pure simple bliss passed through her barely chapped lips. A one Miss Marian Hawke sat upon the roof of her family's home, climbed up through means her mother surely wouldn't approve of. Apparently levitating yourself on to the roof is a bad idea, or so Mother would scold. Of course she was right, an apostate floating around would create quite a commotion.<p>

A breeze so light tugged at her raven locks, in such desperate need of a trim. Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she smiled as she watched the sun finish rising. She wished that everyone could have seen it, that all of those who claimed that Ferelden was so brown and mucky, that when the sun was just right, the world glowed. The golden wheat that swayed in the breeze, the water the colour of jewels, the rolling hills… it was all so beautiful.

Yet her mind not only thought of the beauty of nature, but on the beauty of a certain lay sister in Lothering's chantry. While apostates were hunted in the name of the chantry, Marian went there to pray every afternoon. Not because she was that religious, nor because she wanted to repent whatever sins she may have committed, but so she could see Sister Leliana one more time. Miss Hawke's infatuation with her began when she first laid eyes upon her. Lustrous red hair, lithe figure, and the way she spoke captured her heart. So she would visit whenever she could, talked to Leliana almost every day. Listened to her stories, for she always had the best stories. Even her sister, Bethany, loved the stories she told.

For two years her heart yearned for her, but when she finally mustered the courage to ask Leliana for a day alone together, in a way so awkward she was surprised when her cheek was kissed softly by her. But Leliana's smile afterwards was somber, saying that she felt something was going to happen soon. She had said that the blight was coming, she felt it, and that she would need to play her own part in it. So she left poor Hawke standing alone in the chantry, heartbroken and teary-eyed.

That was the day before, and she finally understood. Word came through, mainly from the lips of refuges, that the army had been slain at Ostagar. And not three days later, the famed Loghain Mac Tir came through Lothering, requesting the Bann's troops to make up for what was lost at Ostagar. Then he simply left, the Bann and his troops in tow.

Then it was less then a week after that, when rumour spread that two surviving Grey Wardens had arrived. Marian had rushed to town to catch a glimpse of them, for in the tales she heard from Leliana, they were renowned for their honour and bravery. But when she saw them, covered in blood from slaying bandits on the highway, she was less than impressed. Their armor was ragged, torn and scratched, their weapons might as well of been broken. Led by a woman, obviously of royal blood, judged from the way she carried herself and followed by a man, handsome and strong, and a woman dressed in what barely could be called rags. All with a faithful mabari that never left the leader's side.

They were nearing the chantry when she caught up to them, stopping them with a simple question. Did anyone survive, Marian asked. The leader's eyes darted away, her face fallen. When the man answered, he answered simply.

"We do not know."

With a single tear sliding down her face, Marian hugged swiftly and let out a soft sob into his armor. Tentative hands rested high on her back, reassuring words whispered in kindness. He said his name was Alistair and a Gray Warden and that he wished he knew more, but that he would try and set things right. And standing up as high as she could, she pressed her lips to his cheek and whispered thanks.

His face turned scarlet as she walked away sullenly, and she barely caught the words that came from the group.

"Oh Alistair, don't tell me that was your first kiss!" said with playful venom.

"Fine, I won't tell you."

She heard no more as she went further away, heading towards the tavern.

* * *

><p>Polishing off the last of the little copper she had brought, she ordered her fifth and last ale. She had been in the little tavern for over an hour, wallowing in depression and alcohol. The only comfort she had, other than the growing loss of thought due to being very, very drunk, was the fact Leliana came and talked with her for just a moment. Offering words of comfort didn't mean much at this point, Carver was more than likely dead, the dinner of some<em>thing<em> that wasn't natural.

There was a small ruckus behind them, an argument between the Gray Wardens who had just entered the tavern and a small band of Regent Loghain's men. The tension was rising when Leliana went over to calm the situation. Unsurprisingly, it was a fruitless task, as the argument quickly turned into a bloody scuffle. Some of the men didn't have time to draw their blades before being struck, with Leliana pulling a small dagger out of seemingly nowhere and joining the fray. The Warden, whose name she hadn't known, knocked one of the men into the bar top next to her when he rammed her shield into his gut. He was about to get up, but was swiftly put down by a mug shattering over his head, courtesy of Hawke.

The leader of the pathetic bunch of Loghain's men surrendered, pleading for his life. And they were let go, to take a message to their commander, that they knew everything. They ran, nearly breaking the hinges off the door as they barreled through it. What she heard next nearly broke her heart again, as Leliana asked if they were indeed Grey Wardens, and when they confirmed it, she asked if she could come with them.

They accepted.

* * *

><p>She had cried for two days. When she finally stumbled home that night in a drunken stupor, her mother had scolded her and Bethany worried. And then she laid in bed and didn't move.<p>

She simply couldn't go on. Her unrequited love had left for dangers unknown, without so much as a goodbye. Her brother was dead. She couldn't believe he would be alive. A Blight was on its way. She really hoped she would just cease to be.

Her thought went to the lay sister she had fallen for once more. She never knew she could fight like that, so quick and silent … so lethal. She almost couldn't believe it. But she had come from somewhere, she would never say where. But Hawke could only guess that it must have been a hard life. The days they talked for hours on end, simply enjoying the company, she never mentioned much of her old life. Hawke fell in love with her, because Leliana was just something indescribable. No words could do her justice in Marian's mind.

No one knew about the event that broke her heart, for she never told her mother or her sister. But she had a feeling her mother knew, just because a mother always knows. And she was always so close to her sister, she figured she'd catch on sooner or later. All Marian could think of was how stupid she was, falling for someone she hardly knew. For someone who couldn't love her back.

All she could was continue to cry.

* * *

><p>It had been nine days since Leliana left with the Wardens. Eighteen days since the massacre at Ostagar. And today was the day the door of the Hawke home burst open with a flourish.<p>

In stumbled Carver, bruised and bloodied, gasping in the early morning air. Bethany almost bowled him over in a hug as her mother burst into tears of joy. Marian just stood close and smiled sadly.

But Carver said there was no time for rest, as he pointed to the smoke billowing just a short distance away. Lothering was burning, and it was the Blight itself.

* * *

><p>So they had ran, so far and so fast that their bodies began to ache. Somehow the darkspawn were always one step behind them, always around the next bend. They must've been more than a few miles away now, for the smoke in the distance began to shrink. Stopping for a moment, just a moment, they had to figure out where to go from there.<p>

They would go to Kirkwall.

None of the Hawke's, except for Mother, thought that Kirkwall was a good idea, for it was too far, with too many templars. But, as their mother had told them, her side of the family was highly regarded in Kirkwall, with an estate to move in to. The Amells were powerful, and could protect them from the Templars.

They didn't have much of a choice. And Marian just really didn't give a damn anymore.

Rushing further along the ridge, they stumbled upon a templar and his wife, a red-headed beauty of strength. Luckily the wife, who was introduced as Aveline, calmed down her templar husband when they had approached. Seems like the Maker had a impeccable sense of humour and timing. They had bonded together, for more blades were always welcome, after the templar, a Ser Wesley, gave his word to keep distance away from Bethany. Somehow, they ended up heading south, for north was blocked and to the south lay the darkspawn. Their only hope was to curve around after going south and avoid the main body of the horde.

Many more darkspawn confronted them on their path, littered with the corpses of foolish refugee's who had tried to evade them, many whilst carrying chests of their belongings. The smoke from Lothering seemed to grow darker in the distance, perhaps it was the last stand that had been taken and fell. Who knows, it was behind them now. Behind all of them but one.

Marian was growing weak, her healing magic drained her terribly, but it was what was keeping them from falling in battle. Both of the Hawke sisters knew more healing than destructive magic, something that they had promised their father, Maker rest his soul. As the last of the skin knitted together, Marian was the first to enter the clearing ahead, Mother not a step behind.

The ground began to shake.

The air split with a deafening roar.

From the south side an ogre came into view, sprinting headlong into the clearing. It looked around in bloodlust, eyeing for a target. And its lifeless eyes came to rest over Mother. Both Bethany and Carver were yelling from behind, attacking relentlessly to get the ogre's attention. But on it marched, towards Marian and Mother.

A fire sizzled in Marian's eyes, as the air began to crackle, as her hand was consumed in flames. She could not feel it, as the soot coated her hands, and as she released a storm of flames into the ogre's face. The temperature rose, but it was useless. Swiftly it grabbed her, just as quickly slamming her to the ground and held her in near-death in front of it. The ogre's lifeless eye's stared deep into Marian's near-lifeless ones, its face charred and scarred from her final attack.

Suddenly she was dropped as Carver's blade pierced the neck of the beast. She fell to the blood-soaked ground in a lump of bruised and broken flesh and bone, as her brother dealt the killing blow to the ogre. Bethany was at her side in an instant, tears welling up in her eyes as she tried desperately to fix what was broken.

Marian Hawke saw what she thought was those familiar red tresses as her eyes fell shut, but that was only her blood.

* * *

><p>AN Something I felt I had to write. If you notice any errors with spelling, please tell me. All the terms from the game get quite confusing after a while.


	2. Feeling Alive

Pain.

It was everywhere. Her arms, her legs, her head felt like they were burning. But that's when she realized that she could _feel_. There was no way she was dead, not with a pain like this. Guess she was only almost dead, not dead… dead.

She may have been able to feel, but she couldn't hear, not yet. She could sense things around her, and she wouldn't be too surprised if they were darkspawn coming to clean the flesh from her bones. For that is what she had planned, in a sense. One final selfless act to save her family, to die with a little dignity, with Leliana on her mind. That was what she wanted, to cease to be.

Yet even this she was denied, like so many other things with her life. Denied a place to call home, denied her love, and even denied her own death. It felt like everything was out of her hands. Felt like she was some cosmic play-thing, to be abused as they see fit.

Now she could feel hands wrapping around her, wide and rough, in a set of arms that held much strength. And she knew for sure that she was alive, if just barely, no doubt from her sister's magic. Oh… poor Bethany. Marian had forgotten about her, how much pain she must have put her own sister through. Then it must've been Carver's arms she was in. Even the rivalry they had wasn't strong enough to make him forget they were family, that they had only each other. Oh Maker… they must still be in that clearing, just waiting for the darkspawn. They wouldn't leave without her; she doomed her own family through her actions. She was always making mistakes, hurting people by trying to help them.

She could hear, hear her mother in tears nearby. She could hear and feel Carver's breathing, as well as her sister's attempts to save her. There was the warrior, Aveline, who she swear she could just hear, a ways away from her. But… there was a voice she couldn't place a person to, one she had never heard before. It was strong, old in years yet somehow even older in spirit. And something was burning. She shivered violently as she realized it was the smell of burning flesh, and cried out softly.

Carver's grip on her tightened, and she could hear her mother draw closer as Bethany placed her hand to Marian's forehead. Her sister's hand was intensely cold, freezing like a winter blizzard. The strange voice rose, a chant she had never heard before, yet one that sounded distinctly elvhen. Then the pain grew again as she could feel her ribs knit back together, her heart beat with a rhythm more sure. Her head pounded harder, her eyes began to open. All she could see was a blur, faint colours in a vast haze of gray.

"See? You're daughter is fine. It seems you owe me more and more every minute."

"So far we owe you nothing, witch… you haven't even said what you wanted anyways." Just like Carver, always defiant.

"Well, I wanted to see who slayed a mighty ogre, but you don't seem all that impressive little boy. The one in your arms however… is it chance, or fate? I can never remember…"

"Enough of your damn cryptic nonsense, just tell us what you want."

"Why, I want you to keep that girl alive for now, she has an uncertain future but one that will change many things. And a simple delivery."

"So, dragon witches need errand boys?"

Marian's eyes could make out a little more now, and she could see who Carver was talking to. This person was an old woman, who stood tall with the arrogance of one who has seen it all, with… horns? She must be seeing things, for it seemed this woman had horns like that of a dragon. Her mind was too hazy to even comprehend that, yet she tried to speak.

"Who… who are you?"

A small chuckle passed through the horned-lady's lips, "Why now I must introduce myself again? If it matters to you, you can call me Flemeth. Seems to be the name of choice for me around here."

"A witch…" it was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes, an apostate. Just like you and your sister."

"B-Bethany?"

Hands cold like a winter's breath touched her arm gently, "I'm here sister, it's all right."

"Please… I'm so sorry. I-I'm so sorry…" Marian's words faded into mumbled nonsense as she began to sob quietly, gripping into her brother's chest tighter than ever.

"Hm… I may be wrong about this one. Ha! What Morrigan would give to hear those words. Now, if you don't mind, I have an… appointment to keep, so unless you want to be a less than satisfactory meal for the darkspawn, I suggest you accept my offer."

"Fine, speak what you will."

"You intend to flee to Kirkwall, yes? If so, then I would ask of you to take this amulet to a keeper Marethari, one of the dalish there. Do as she asks, and any dept you have to me is paid in full."

"That's it, no catch?"

"Hm, there is always a catch young boy, so I suggest you catch this opportunity while you can."

"Alright, looks like we have no choice then."

"Ah, there seldom is. Like there is only one for your templar friend."

"No!" Aveline finally said something, "You will not touch him."

"Darling…" now it was Wesley, "I can feel the corruption, the taint…"

"He doesn't have long. The taint leads to a long suffering, and the only cure I know is to become a Grey Warden."

"And I saw them all slaughtered at Ostagar."

"No, two still live. But they are far beyond your reach."

"Aveline…. Love, please. Ease my pain."

"I am sorry, husband."

Marian's eyes clamped shut as she heard the dagger slip its way through his steel armor and enter his heart. Starting to sob harder, she prayed that they would make it. That Leliana wouldn't have to suffer a similar fate.

"Without an end, there can be no peace. It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun…"

* * *

><p>The Witch of the Wilds was supposed to be a myth, yet somehow she had gotten the Hawke family to Gwaren in one piece. Marian had refused to stay awake during the trip, for one she hated heights, and two she believe that she shouldn't still live. It was a thought that was shared with Aveline, whose husband met her own blade through something that was beyond her power. Yet, Marian still lived, defying death itself it seems, all because a witch wanted her to live. Life was never really fair.<p>

Every fiber of her being still hurt, but they had to find a place to stay until a ship came. So they had wandered throughout the town, no inn with open rooms in sight, and the sun began to set. Bethany, Carver, Mother, Aveline, and herself refused to split apart, not until they got to Kirkwall at least. They needed each other more than ever now.

Sun showing the last of itself, they had found a place, not far from the docks, that would let them rest for at least the night. They even had a choice, the cellar or the attic. So, in the attic they were, huddled beneath the cobwebs in the dark, air ice cold and relentless. And as the night dragged on, Marian couldn't sleep, even if her body begged her to. She laid there awake, counting the breaths of her sleeping family, and Aveline of course.

It must have been hours she had been awake, for her eyes began to ache, her body more so. Her face was stained with tears, from a mixture of pain both emotional and physical. And somehow she thought still, on the woman she loved, or thought she did. She tried to push the thoughts from her mind, for maybe it was better off this way. Maybe she could help the Wardens, maybe she would change the world. But, she would always wonder what could've been. She would always wonder, no matter what the future would hold.

Fingers so soft brushed through her hair, and Bethany spoke softly into her ear, "Sister, are you alright? You were so depressed before all… this. And after, well, what happened at…"

Marian turned her head, still resting in her sister's lap, "Bethany, I am fine. I think. I do not know anymore. So much has happened, and I just don't know."

"It's just… that you looked like your heart was broken," Marian felt it crack again, "and I know it's not my place to ask, but I am your sister, and I will always listen to you."

"If I… if I tell you, do you promise never to speak of it?"

"Of course, you'd never have to ask."

"You remember the sister at the chantry, who always had the best stories?"

"Yes, how could I forget, she had that wonderful, what was it? Orlesian accent, yes? Sister Leliana, I remember. But I don't see what she has to do with you looking heartbroken."

Marian sighed softly, stifling a sad giggle at her naïve sister, "Sister, just think about it."

"Well, I still don't see how. I know you were friends, but her leaving was out of your control. I mean it's not like she was your lover or- Oh dear sweet Maker…"

Biting down on her lip to keep from laughing, Marian tried to speak, "She wasn't my lover. But I wished she was. So that is why I was depressed. And, I'm sorry, if I disgust you, that was why I was wary of telling you."

"Marian… how could I be ashamed of my own sister, you know that."

Her sister's smile seemed to shine through the darkness, as she brushed the hair out of Marian's eyes, and all of her worries seemed to wash away. One thing went right, finally. And Marian's eyes closed softly, as her sister quietly sung under her breath. She smiled herself, as the last thought that crossed her mind before slipping into a blissful dreamless sleep was not of Leliana, but of ink stained skin.

* * *

><p>It seemed that they were catching a break, for it wasn't a day later when they heard of a ship heading for Kirkwall. Of course, it would be crowded and a long journey, but it was what they had to do. The ship would leave the day after, so now they just had to wait some more. And luckier still, they were allowed to stay in the same place until the ship left. Well, if you consider that lucky.<p>

But, Marian was still in rough shape, the effects of being so close to death's embrace finally catching up. So her sister stayed at her side, as Carver and the rest went to secure passage to Kirkwall. For the longest of time they stayed silent, as Bethany soothed her sister's pain in the only way she could. A faint green glow radiated from her hands, as they hovered just above her sister's skin. Her brow creased in concentration, and her breath was steady. Yet, Bethany was still distracted by a thought that had been nagging her for an entire night.

"A question, dear sister."

"What is it?"

"How did you- I mean, oh how do I say this," Bethany's cheeks flush scarlet, as she begins to stumble over her words, "H-How did you, you know, or what is it like with a woman?"

Stifling a giggle and her own growing blush, Marian says slowly, "I have never… been with a woman. Not yet."

"Oh! A-are you still a… well, you know…"

Marian's giggle could not be contained any longer, even with biting her lip, "Bethany, relax. I am, as you still are. You are, right?"

"Of course! I-I mean, I never really had a chance to change that anyways."

"And why not?," Marian twists to rest on her arm, looking up at her sister, "I know we have never stayed too long in one place, but sister, you shouldn't have any trouble."

"What do you mean?" With a sudden look of realization, she tries to backtrack, "On second thought, I really don't want to know."

Giggling softly, she pats her sister's leg, "Alright Bethany, as you wish."

Getting back to the healing, Bethany grew quiet in concentration as Marian nearly drifted to sleep. Yet, she could never quite fall into slumber. It wasn't the pain, it wasn't the feelings she had for Leliana, it was something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

For the night before, after the dream of her fingers gliding over the ink stained skin of someone unknown, it was to her laughing with a dwarf. She couldn't make out much, but the oddest thing she could remember about him, and it was indeed a him, was the distinct lack of a beard. Never before had she seen a dwarf without one, well, she hadn't seen many dwarves to begin with. Funny though, how that wasn't all she dreamed of.

'Twas a tavern, she believed, that she was in. Surrounded by the noise of the patrons, the distinct scent of tar, sweat, and blood heavy in the air, and the company of men and women she couldn't name. Well, most of them she couldn't name, but both her siblings were there. Carver, naturally, was brooding per usual, and Bethany's cheeks were positively glowing, as she was talking with a dark-skinned beauty. Also there was a man, dressed most ridiculously in feather pauldrons of all things, who seemed to be enjoying himself, and next to him was the dwarf. She then saw Aveline, in full plate, who was next to where Marian was. But the last thing she saw before waking, or rather what she felt before, was a gentle touch resting on her shoulder. And when she went to look, she awoke, only in the company of her family in a dingy attic.

Somehow that dream seemed like so much more, less of a dream and more of a vision. And somehow what the witch said echoed. _Is it fate or chance?_ What was it? Perhaps, just perhaps, she had a purpose, one that could change something for the better. Maybe her intent to help would do just that, help, instead of harm in a way she couldn't have predicted.

"Sister?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what Marian?"

"For making you worry. For hurting you and the family. I'm sorry."

And Bethany didn't say anything, just letting a single tear slip down her cheek, as silence once more enveloped them.

* * *

><p>The night passed on without incident, and the morning came too soon for Marian, who was still sore, rightfully so. She had taken to clinging to Carver's arm as they went, in the early morning dew, to catch the ship that would take them from this blighted hole. Even if Ferelden had been their home for years, it felt right to leave. But of all the places she had thought she would go, Kirkwall was practically last on the list.<p>

She had heard Antiva was nice, even if it was full assassins and… Antivans.

Boarding the ship proved no problem, seems the sailors had no problem harboring a pair of apostates, that or that bit of information went unsaid. They were to be in the hold, among perhaps a dozen other families in there as well. Each, without a doubt, having their own tale on how they arrived. Although Marian highly doubted any were quite as interesting as her families, whether that was for better or for worse was up for debate.

Apparently, they were the last group to board, for the ship left port not so long after. It was a journey that would take a couple of months to cross the Waking Sea, and every moment seemed to stretch into eternity. All they could do was talk, something none of them really wanted to do. So, for the first week they sat in silence, more or less. Apart from the occasional bickering from the other families and groups in the hold with them and the sound of waves lashing against the ship, it was utter silence.

A week passed, then a month. In that time Marian had taken to retreating to the deck, for she seemed at peace when the wind blew through her hair and the salt sprayed against her face. She had thought, long and hard, about many things in her life, from things of the past to that of the future. It had taken time; much needed time, to come to accept her love for Leliana. The conclusion finally came to her that she had to move on. It was so damn simple that she scolded herself. She would hold on to what she had, and use the experience in future endeavors.

She thought on that dream, or vision, she didn't know, that she had that night in the attic. And the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. What it was, or what she believed it was, was home. Somehow that sounded right. She had giggled softly at the thought, at how her dream seemed better than reality, but that was often the case was it not? Dreams were meant to be what we wanted. That was also her first step into coming to terms with Leliana. For she never seemed to dream of her anymore, just the mystery person with tattooed skin.

Then the storms came, lashing at the ship terribly and fiercely, forcing Marian back into the holds. When the storms came, her family and Aveline seemed to finally open up and speak. Carver and Aveline talked about that final night at Ostagar, where that one single moment of hope lost changed them both in different ways. Bethany and herself began speaking again, acting like sisters once more. And Mother seemed at least a little happy, for her family was still together. It was almost surreal at that, how the family had bonded on that ship, more so there than on the run from the horde. Even Aveline and Marian had talked, with them finally coming to equal terms. It almost grew heated, but Marian had apologized to her, wishing Wesley had survived in her place. That took the fire out of Aveline's eyes, just enough for them to be civil. They found out that, while they didn't seem to have much in common, they shared a sense of morality of sorts. That while the world seemed dark and gray, they both believed it could be changed.

It came sooner than they had expected. Barely over two months at sea, they caught their first glimpse of what was to come, off in the distance.

Kirkwall; the City of Chains.


	3. Spirited Desire

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I'll update when I can.

* * *

><p>"<em>What is it that you desire?"<em>

"_I… I don't understand."_

"_If you were to have your wish, would you give me mine?"_

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first time the nightmares had come, it wasn't the first time she'd awoken in a cold sweat, and it still didn't make any sense. From the moment when Gamlen secured them work, or indentured servitude as Carver would brood, with a local smuggling ring, from the moment she had set foot in what could barely be considered her new home, she was plagued by nightmares. And they weren't normal, not at all. It was something she couldn't place, the feeling she had gotten from it. As if ever word went straight to heart, and she didn't even know where the words came from. All she knew of was the voice, that spoke to her each nightmare, wasn't natural. It was too sultry, too persuasive, too kind, and too true.<p>

It had been months since they came to Kirkwall and out of those she had slept in her own bed for barely a fraction of that. Instead, on her sister's suggestion no less, she bunked with Bethany. The first night, with Bethany's comforting presence near her, Marian slept dreamlessly. But it wasn't a week later, they came back, full force. And in her new nightmares, instead of just a voice, persuasive lips pressed against the back of her neck. In that nightmare, she nearly asked, 'What is your wish'?

_If you were to have your wish, would you give me mine?_

It was the same question, night after night. And every time, she would nearly give in. But something always pulled her awake, and for the best she thought. Marian almost didn't want to know the answer. Fear of the worst, that maybe, just maybe that the voice was…

She felt Bethany roll over beside her, her breath barely audible over Marian's own heavy breathing. Her sister knew of her nightmares, but not of what happened in them. Perhaps, in the morning, she would tell her. Ask her help, for even if they were both mages, Bethany was the one with the knowledge of it. For her, Marian preferred to play, the hands on work.

She even had the fool notion to ask the Circle, but that thought was quickly dismissed.

For now, she would just lay there. Try and sleep, praying for it to be dreamless.

Prayers went ignored.

* * *

><p>The morning came too quick, yet not fast enough for Marian. But there was no time to wake up at leisure. Athenril had left a letter for the Hawke siblings the night before, detailing a simple assignment, one easily within their skill. Actually, it was almost insulting after their last one. Overseeing a nigh-guaranteed safe shipment pales in comparison to raiding a rival smuggler's headquarters. Marian was almost giddy at the memory, it was the first time she had used her magic in the city. She had resorted to a blade for the first several months, taught by Carver against all odds, though she had no skill that could come close to his level.<p>

"So, sister…" oh, here it comes, she thought.

"Yes, dear brother?"

"Since this is such an easy job," she could almost feel the sarcasm dripping from his words, "why don't I take care of it? You and Bethany go out and relax, I can handle it."

"Now why, dear Carver, would you suggest that? Aren't thinking of playing hero are we?"

"Why? Is it so wrong to be out from under a shadow every once in a while? And that's not it anyways. You realize what time of year it is?"

"I'm sorry, but my sense of time has been long gone ever since we got here, I can't tell what day it is."

"Well," Carver says, with just a tinge of bitterness, "mother's anniversary is coming up. I figured you of all people would remember that."

Sadly, Marian had to give Carver that one. Every year since father passed, Marian had gone out of her way to find the flowers father used to give mother every year. Andraste's Grace, though not a rare flower by any means, it was still beautiful and smelled sweet. Unfortunately, in the time they had spent in Kirkwall, she had never seen one. Not in a flower shop, not on her brief trips outside of the city, nowhere.

Her head hung just the tiniest bit, and while brushing a stray strand of hair behind her hair, she spoke, "Alright Carver. You made your point, and you're right. I should have remembered. And if you really want to go alone no one is stopping you."

She pushed away from the table softly, grabbing the dirty dish and placing it out of the way on the counter before quickly leaving the house. As the door closed behind her, she heard Carver sigh, sounding just a little ashamed. Much like her recurring nightmares, Carver was a change when they arrived in Kirkwall. Instead of being outright bitter and snide with her, he had become strangely close to her. If Marian had to venture a guess, it was because of how he held her in his arms that day, when she was a broken mess, bloody and sobbing. Marian wasn't ashamed about crying that day, even though she would have been most days. And truth be told, she liked the 'new' Carver, they had talked more and more, now closer than ever. The bitterness still came through every once in a while, both of them guilty for that, but they always put it aside.

After just reaching the bottom step, the door behind her opened, and Carver stood there, "Sister, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be that much like Gamlen."

"It's alright Carver," quietly laughing to herself, "You were right, I need to find those flowers. If anything, just to bring a piece of her old life back here. So much has changed; I guess she needs something familiar."

"Sounds like my sister is going out of the city then? I haven't seen them in town anywhere."

"Most likely. Is Bethany going with you?"

It was his turn to laugh, "Still worried about your brother as always, I'll be fine. I'm not the only one watching over the shipment. And besides, you could use the company."

"Alright."

And she waited, and as Carver came back outside with his sword holstered to his back with Bethany in tow, she lifted herself off the steps she was sitting upon. They waved Carver off as he headed towards the docks, while the Hawke sisters headed towards the Hightown market. The walk was filled with silence as they began up the many steps to Hightown, Bethany smiling brightly and Marian thinking of how to ask her the question that has been bugging her for a while. But, no matter how she worded it, it still sounded terrible.

They arrived in Hightown in short order, determined to check the flower shops one final time. Stone clicking underfoot, they browsed through the simple stalls, but through the vast array of colour, that simple white flower was nowhere to be found. So they set off for the only other flower shop in Hightown, a small hole in the wall in the far corner of the market.

"Sister?"

"Yes?"

"How do I put this… since you were always the one who studied all of father's old books, I was wondering if you could help me with something."

"Why do I have the feeling that this has something to do with you tossing and turning every night?" Bethany said, her eyebrow arching slightly.

"Well, probably because it is for one," she says, slightly ashamed that it was that obvious, "and because of what it is. You see, I've been having these nightmares, and every night they seem to be a little different yet the same. It's hard to explain, like a story being repeated, but a sentence more said every time it's heard, I mean, oh this is harder than I thought…"

A hand coming to rest on her shoulder made her stop, and as she turned Bethany looked her straight in the eye, "Come on sister, whatever it is it can't be that bad. Is it of the ogre?"

Eyes dropping away from the contact, Marian nervously rubbed the back of her neck, "N-no, just look… every time, every night it's the same phrase. 'If you were to have your wish, would you give me mine.' Bethany what does it mean?

The fear and the pain was something Bethany almost couldn't bear to hear, her usually confident sister reduced to a shriveling puddle of worry and self-doubt. Sighing softly, her hand slid off her shoulder.

"Marian, it's probably nothing; you've been so worried and stressed lately that it's just getting to you."

Marian still didn't believe that, "And you're sure?"

"No," Bethany raised a single finger up, "but, there was no mention of a phrase like that in father's books, nor anything that I think relates to it, and so much has happened recently that I'm fairly positive of this."

As much as she hated to admit, Bethany made a point, and with a small cheeky grin she said, "Well, you seemed to receive all the brains in this family and I all the good looks," and her grin grew, "and then there's Carver with all the stubbornness so I guess it all works out."

Giggling as they reached the top step, Bethany played along, "All the good looks? I'd say I at least got some of them. Whether Carver got some of that is well up to debate."

"Oh look at you, taking shots at your dear twin brother. You really shouldn't do sarcasm sister," Marian goes on, pocketing an apple from a fruit stand as they pass by, "you are far too sweet looking to pull it off. And besides, that's my angle."

"I saw that by the way," through the corner of her eye, Bethany playfully glares at her sister, "And maybe I like to be sarcastic. It feels nice."

"Oh trust me dear sister, I am the eldest after all."

Soft laugh passing her lips, Marian swiftly grabs her sister's hand as she ducks into a small flower shop, pulling her in with her. Almost hidden in the corner of the market, it was a quaint little place, and as one would assume of a flower shop, smelt most wonderful. It was fairly dark inside, apart from a lone candle on the counter sitting next to a single black rose. Lined with flowers of numerous varieties, they walked to the small counter, softly ringing the service bell.

A man, far into his years and with skin so wrinkled it could almost tell a story, slowly shuffled up, nodding with a kind smile. Marian asked whether the flower she sought was in stock, or if he even knew of it. He simply shook his head, kind smile still playing along his lips. But just as Marian was turning to leave, he spoke up, with a voice nearly as quiet as a whisper. He said that she should try near Sundermount, near the base of the largest of trees, but also, that she should keep her mind at the ready, for the path to Sundermount was dangerous indeed. A brow raised in confusion was all she gave back to him, and he just continued to smile, tapping the counter with lanky finger. She barely could see it, wouldn't have seen it if it had been any brighter in the shop, the small arc of electricity right before his finger touched the counter. A faint smile was given in place of the brow, a polite nod from him, and they left.

* * *

><p>Stumbling upon a stream, they rested for just a moment, having been hiking for well over two hours now. They drank greedily from the stream, their clothes becoming soaked. Marian's mind wandered, just as Bethany wandered down the stream.<p>

She worried for Aveline, now a city-guard yet being a refugee, who while able to fend for herself, was a little too brash for the job. She was a leader, someone who got the job done, and wasn't afraid to bend the laws ever so slightly to do the right thing. Marian respected that, while hands were dirtied, it was honest hearts that led to honest actions. And Mother, as much as Gamlen and the pathetic hovel they lived in brought her spirits down, she could always muster a smile, for she had her family.

Marian slowly stood, wandering after her sister. Bethany was bent over near a tree, plucking simple white flowers from its base, and she just had to smile. For once something went right, even if it was something as simple as flowers for their mother.

"Well well…" she drawled "Seems to me we've finally had a stroke of luck."

"That we have dear sister; that we have." Bethany said quietly, tucking a single flower behind her ear as she simply held the rest.

Two hours of hiking all for a half dozen flowers, not a bad trade Marian thought. She almost hated to admit, but she assumed something would happen, something bad. It was just her luck. But, luck must be changing, she was optimistic.

"Now, shemlen, raise your hands slowly, and tell me why you wander so close to our camp."

Spoke to soon, it seems.

Both of the Hawke sighed in unison, following the simple command as they stood, hands raised above their heads. They turned, coming to face two lithe, male elves.

"We were simply collecting flowers for our mother, ser elf." Marian spoke, grinning defiantly, "By chance we wandered so close to your camp."

"A likely story, if true at that." The bowstring tightened, audibly so.

"I swear on my father's grave, Maker rest his soul."

Both elves cast a simple glance at each other, their wide eyes uncharacteristically narrow in thought. The bows creaked softly in relief, from a loosening grip.

"Do not make us regret making this decision, off with you, faster the better."

The two elves watched them as they followed the trail back the way they came. Both Marian and Bethany had their hearts pounding in their chest, keeping their pace swift.

* * *

><p>"Wait, wait…" a patron interrupted.<p>

The storyteller stopped, an eyebrow raised in question.

"I mean, interesting story, yes, and about our hero, who we adore, true. But really, what good is this information? Ooooh, she collected flowers for her mother, she ran into some elves, gasp! And really, how long is this story going to take? It's felt like forever."

"Well," the storyteller continued simply, sly grin at their lips, "No detail is too small, and I did say this was _her_ story after all. Besides, something important did happen that day. And if you really didn't care, you would have left, no?"

That particular patron was quiet for the rest of the night, and the tale.

* * *

><p>The Hawke sisters were almost just out of sight and earshot of the elves when something came crashing through the brush, flailing wildly as it impacted the packed dirt of the trail.<p>

Turns out it was another elf, female one at that. Marian considered that a slight improvement so far.

Marian extended her hand out, and the elf took it without pause as she shook her head, coming to stand. Two things came caught her attention; the elf's rather lovely eyes, and the rather luminescent blush that shone on her cheeks. The elf quickly brushed past Marian, no thank you, at least one that was audible. All she heard was a rather rushed mumble of something that sounded like an apology, an excuse, something about tree roots, and what could have been quite a bit of elvish curses thrown together in one breath.

The urge to ask what she said was overweighed by the urge to laugh.

So the Hawke sisters continued on their way with Bethany scolding her sister for being so inconsiderate as to laugh, and the elves walked back to their camp, the two male ones scolding the other for being so unlike how a First should be.

* * *

><p>They could hear the cheering when they first entered Hightown.<p>

They could hear the music as they descended the stairs into Lowtown.

In the streets the children screamed, the lovers they cried, the poets didn't have to dream. Men and women, elves and dwarves, it didn't matter then, they were dancing with careless abandon. A mage, either plain stupid, reckless or too full of joy to care, was firing small flames of a myriad of colours into the air. It was nearly a festival.

The Hawke sisters wandered through the mass of bodies, slinking their way past dancing couples, detouring around a drunken brawl. Barely past the tavern now, they had run into their dear brother, and judging by his rather pronounced stagger, their dear drunken brother. Simply laughing we wrapped his arms around both his sisters, guiding the back the way they came, straight towards the door of the local tavern. Rather, the lack of a door, for it was torn from the hinges.

There were almost as many people in the tavern as there were in the streets, with much less dancing and much more drinking. A spot at the bar was nigh impossible to find, but somehow they managed to relieve a fellow of his.

Marian didn't know whether to note that as good or bad luck.

Carver was absolutely joyous, but both sisters assumed it was from the vast amounts of ale in his body. But low and behold to their surprise when he ordered them a pitcher each of the finest ale the tavern had. Considering it was The Hanged Man, that just meant there was less rat piss in the swill.

"Here is to the greatest thing to happen since we've came to this blasted city!" Carver shouted in a drunken slur, which in turn earned a cheer from many of the patrons in the bar.

Both Bethany and Marian leaned in close, a simple question coming from them, "Excuse me?"

With a good-natured smile, a light in his eyes, he simply said, "The Blight is over!"

It took no more than a moment before both sisters ended up cheering along with the rest of the bar and the pitchers of ale being banged together in a toast.


End file.
